


Dark Paradise

by DannisonDrables



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claudia Stilinski Memories, Dark Stiles, Fae & Fairies, Fae Claudia Stilinski, Fae Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Claudia Stilinski, dark fae - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannisonDrables/pseuds/DannisonDrables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nogitsune is gone but in his violent exit doors are left open inside of Stiles' mind. Doors that should have been left closed. Doors that Claudia Stilinski nailed shut with her own belief to keep her son from doing terrible things. But now Stiles is free. The real one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a one shot, I'd love feedback. I might continue on with it if I get positive reviews on it. I'd love to know what you guys thought. <3

 

                Something just…. Snapped. Stiles’ doesn’t exactly know what it was. If Stiles is telling the truth you’ll learn that nothing really snapped. Hobbies run out once you’ve done everything with them, everything useful. And then you just want to kind of stretch your wings and have a little fun.   
                It started with saving the dogs. It was nice. A silent hero behind Scott McHung-up-on-the-girl-that-never-fucking-wanted-me-in-the-first-place. And Stiles _has_ to admit she was a perfect place to start… He would give the Fox credit where credit was due. But Stiles is getting a head. Let’s go back.  
                See, when a homicidal demon fox hell bent on revenge takes up nest in your innards and lays its roots so deep you end up with a brain disease you know that when/if you get your body back it won’t be the same. All those neat files in your brain are possibly toppled and your inhibitions are just set _free_ and the world looks so great because your brain is asunder and soft. Stiles wanted to say it was just because he was recovering. All tragedies had their aftermath. Aftershocks in earthquakes, floods after hurricanes.   
                This wasn’t that.  
                Truth be told when void left he opened up this door that someone had closed a long fucking time ago. Like seconds after his birth. A door that slammed open because _something_ was banging on it from the other side with talon like nails and piercing screams begging to be released and Stiles’ good old friend void popped every lock in his mind when he strolled out so casually. Sure Stiles was mostly an open book except in two instances. The first being that he looked damn good in a pair of heels and knew it and the second that he liked to have the worst fucking kind of fun. He liked the feeling of having a filthy mouth that said the worst riddles and how you could almost smell it when someone cried because of your words and the panic was rose nectar on his tongue. He loved the sweet squelch of blood running through his fingertips and how delectable it felt to sink your fingers into the human body like a dike in the river to stop the bleeding while everyone else thought you were saving the day. It kept his hands warm… and his lips. He loved these things and he didn’t know why because he’d never experienced them before, never knew the feeling of taking the light from someone’s eyes.   
                And more than that, he had this hunger. And so like the thawing of a dark lake, a current started within him, a powerful surge that brushed up against his everything after being denied for seventeen years. And Stiles knew like he knew so many things without knowing how that it wasn’t an illness, not a disorder. It wasn’t even something in him, it was just _him_. His very essence; playful in the worst of ways and delighting in trickery and the beautiful consequences of falling for them.   
                It started deep in his gut a couple days after Void left his mind a hollowed out exhibition for the freaky and fucked up. Stiles was lying in bed, flashes of his body covered in blood as he laid in a room of white with sanguinary colored fabric around his stomach and barely draping across his thighs enough to cover his loins. He always felt like a butterfly like this, curled up in a cocoon. Like his wings were just uncurling inside the chrysalis that was his mind, body and soul and the human _boy_ he was for so long was trying to contain the true beauty that was coming, his true self. He laughed despite himself each time, when he felt the quivering hands and arms shaking in exertion. And in the privacy of his room he would whisper the words that were truer than anything else he’d ever said.   
                “You won’t win this. You can’t. Cause I won’t let you, and you and I are one in the same… I’m simply better. I am no longer deniable.”  
                One day the small quivering mewling thing answered back, curious in nature, they had that in common you know, just curious about different things.   
                _Why?  
                _ Because of your whore mother that we love so much who died so soon. Because of what she was. Because of what that lesser being did when he strolled through and destroyed you and set me free.  
                _Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t talk about her!  
_                 Or what, small thing? You’ll be gone soon you know? By the end of the summer when the solstice comes through. All good things need heat to form. Your mother would know that. She herself bloomed in the baking heat of summer as well before being thrust from her own mother’s cunt. I’m just waiting until it gets hot enough, and please. Save yourself from fighting for control, this… this is the end of lies. I won’t have to be made into something other than honest anymore. You can feel it can’t you, Stiles? The images you have suppressed all your life, the desire, the want… the need. All those are normal for those like us. No one understands. Is the wolf a beast for hunting in the woods? Can’t you see it, Stiles.    
                _No.  
                _ Oh come on now, don’t be shy. It’s just yourself you are talking to… admit it… you think about it. We are close. You can feel that… it’s like I’m pressed up against your side like an honest and true friend. I’ll always tell you the truth too. You can feel my breath on the shell of your ear and the ever so light flick of my tongue, you can hear it curl, and you can hear the growl of HUNGER!  
                _LIAR!  
                _ HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stiles! You’re a riot. Always joking and making people laugh. Making me laugh. How about this memory, hmm? I love this one. The grief of her dying face let my jar open up just a little bit and for a second you forgot not to listen to me. You and your dead maggot infested mother are a lot alike in that department.  You both convinced yourself I was like an imaginary friend that would go AWAY if you ignored me, and you always wondered why you never told her about your special friend who only came at night or lingered in the shadows during the dark. You thought it was innocent enough just how she made you think. She thought she could make you ignore all that was dark in the world and you thought you could learn to ignore me. Wrong-o. You didn’t ignore me in the hospital did you, Stiles?  
                _Stop it.  
                _ When I started whispering.  
                _No.  
                _ When we got so curious about what would happen if…  
                _if….  
                _ be a big boy… come on Stiles… say it with me.   
                If….  
                _If.  
                _ If.   
                _If….  
                 If I pulled the plug_  
  
                Ah…. And it felt good. And everyone let it slide because you were a little boy and Claudia, poor brain dead Claudia might have told you to do it herself because she was in so much pain… It’s okay to cry, it hurts, I know. Don’t worry though, everyone forgave you, right? Melissa didn’t yell at you, your daft father didn’t even have the heart to look at you like you hadn’t just blatantly murdered your mother. Probably because you look so much like her that he can’t stand seeing your face most of the time. The _boy_ with the big brown eyes. Mmm, makes me sick to my stomach. But can I tell you a secret, Stiles? It might make you feel better.  
_Just leave me alone… please.  
_ I can’t. I won’t even say I wish I could… but if you’d listen to me I could soothe so much of the fear.   
_You’re a monster.  
_ Yes, Stiles. I am. I’m just like you.  
_I’m nothing like you! Nothing!  
_ I was hoping there could be some honesty here.   
  
                                A mirror appeared above the bed reflecting all long pale limbs spotted with moles, disheveled hair, bloody ravaged lips pulled into a sympathetic yet mocking smile, a tear stained face and eyes like bottomless pits of black.  
  
See Stiles. The truth is you are a part of me. Your dead sweet rotting mother felt just who I would become when I popped out of her pussy and breathed in the air of this world with all the fun things for people like me and despite her being the same in some ways it still scared her to death. She had your father to give her some humanity and admittedly she was something of a lesser being in my world, nothing compared to me. So she watered me down until all that’s left when a hyperactive little chit with too much mouth and a _spark_. But when this is over? Oh, Sweetie. I’m going to have it made. And you’ll be there too! Because we are the same, Stiles. Just open your eyes and look. Do these ink black eyes not leak the tears I’m crying from fear? Aren’t my lips bloody from biting them from the panic racking through my frame? My chest breaking apart with shrieking breaths I can barely take? That’s you, us, me. All the same. She was good, mom, I’ll give her that. She took small pieces of me and washed them until they were barely there and then stitched them together in a small corner where the dark couldn’t reach. Left that piece of me in charge while everything else that I truly am was left screaming and hungry for so long. Those small pieces of me weren’t able to see the rest, and now think me something foreign.  


                The being laying on the bed laughed bittering as his body struggled to right itself. To stop the tears and breathe normally. To keep the thin elegant hands from shaking.   
I can see it now. And you can feel it can’t you.  
_I can see it now. And I can feel it.  
_ I’m not broken anymore. I’m whole.  
_I’m not broken anymore. I’m whole._  
  
                And it snapped. The filter broke and the being on the bed saw himself as a complete picture. The pieces regained their potency, a vicious sense of humor and the frantic overzealous power that remained restless, the knowledge of things not yet studied or learned. And a raging inferno that had for so long been smothered into a spark.  
                Summer had passed as Stiles laid in bed in the same position letting his body, mind and soul heal from the entrapments of his own mothers making. The months he spent speaking to the piece she carved out of him, coaxing it back into the rest of himself, like getting a dog to trust. With the power the he possessed he kept the pack away with mirages placed through town. Images of himself they would see at a distance ignoring him, never close enough to talk to. Always on the way out, only every now and then to keep them from checking in. His dripped false memories into the front of his father’s brain to keep the sheriff away. And in seclusion of his bedroom he endured the metamorphosis while his true nature slipped closer and closer to the surface. First with the erratic flashes of black in his tawny eyes to the steady deep nothingness that consumed the sockets. The tips of his ears sharpening and coming to a point and finally, coming into his own, the black bone antlers that pushed out of his forehead.   
  
                Claudia had left her people after knowing what her future child would become. She, like many Fae had visions and she saw the little boy unbound by love or purpose playing a truly sickening game. Some Fae were just born dark, but none as dark as this. She worked magic so that he could be a baby that she loved. But nothing can contain darkness, not truly. It’s everywhere, in every shadow there is a speck of consciousness and they communicate with one another. She very well knew the boy her son truly was must have been whispering all those years until those words became the actions of others and she was laid low. The last image that of her little boy with large brown eyes bleeding black and crying helplessly with the most twisted smirk on his elven face, teeth bared and tongue poking out impishly while his chubby fingers curled around the cord.   
  
  
See Stiles… It’s not about being evil. Or killing people, though I am oh so hungry. It’s about freedom for me, like it is for most others like myself. We really only want to have fun, albeit there are varying definitions. Life is about enjoying the little things.  
  
                “Stiles get your ass up it’s time for school!” The Sheriff banged on the door with a laugh. “Don’t make me come in there!” He teased before leaving.   
                Stiles moved for the first time in months and reveled in the workings of his own freedom.   
  
Let the games begin.   



End file.
